


The Right Tattoo

by verfound



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Moana (2016)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, It's tough to be a (demi)god, Softcore Character Death, Tissue Box Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:25:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8806135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: “So…what would you come back as, Curly?” he asks, and Moana laughs as she presses her cheek to his chest.  “I think the gods already chose my tattoo,” she says.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Post-film; more softcore character death. Egads, you guys are gonna kick me out of the fandom if I keep going like this. But in my defense, it kinda goes off an idea I had while writing “You’re Welcome” and merging with one from reading Hi_im_Brina’s “Angst and Tattoo Sass”. It’s a more hopeful tearjerker, hopefully with no tears? (Also, reading YW is in no way necessary for this. Just to save some pain if you haven’t.)

The more he gets to know her, there is one thing Maui becomes sure of regarding his new mortal friend: Moana is freakin’ _weird_.

 

Sure, he knew she was tough.  Bossy?  Oh, yeah.  Maybe even a bit psychotic.  But more than anything, he knew for certain, she was definitely weird.  The first time he met her, she had brought along a psychotic chicken as her travelling companion.  This time, she had insisted on bringing a pig.

 

A.

 

Pig.

 

And not just any pig, oh, no – an aquaphobic one.  She had brought a pig that was terrified of water along on a sea voyage.  The poor thing had spent ninety percent of its time shaking in the storage compartment!  She was certifiable – completely cooky-dooks!

 

And now this!

 

He hadn’t noticed the change at first, since he was busy scanning the sky and making sure they were still on coarse.  But all of a sudden he couldn’t see the stars as clearly, and that was when he noticed the glow coming from the ocean.

 

“What the…?” he asked, looking around for the source of the light.  “You seeing this, Mo?  What –”

 

But when he looked over to her, Moana was completely unfazed.  He’d even go so far as to say she looked excited.  That stupid pig was sitting in her lap quaking, but she looked so happy.  And then the light gathered to form a glimmering, giant manta ray that leapt up from the ocean to arc over their canoe.  He let out a shout and reached for his hook, ready for a fight, but Moana started laughing, and he paused.  He looked back to his friend, and his eyes widened when he saw her jumping up to run to the glowing old woman that had suddenly appeared on deck.

 

“Gramma!” Moana cried, and he gaped as she embraced the spirit.  The stupid pig was squealing, as Moana’s excitement had accidently sent him toppling overboard, and when the ocean rolled him back on deck he started racing around in circles in a blind panic.

 

“He hasn’t changed,” the spirit said, her voice dry with amusement as she watched the pig.  It stopped, tilted its head in consideration of the spirit, and squealed as it ran straight for her.  “Hello there, little one.  I’ve missed you, too.”

 

Moana had told him of her Gramma Tala before, of course.  The elder woman had meant everything to her: she had taught her everything she knew about their people, about him, and had been the one to start her on their quest.  She had safeguarded the Heart of Te Fiti for all those years Chief Tui had tried to keep Moana from the sea.  She had told Moana how to find him.  Maui isn’t really a humble kind of guy, but he knows he owes the woman a great debt.  Not that he had any regrets about his life (at least that he’d willingly admit to), but if he was the sort of demigod to do so he would say he regrets not getting the chance to meet Tala.  To thank her.  So when Moana turned back to him, smiling as radiantly as the spirit woman’s light, and introduced her as Tala herself, well…he was ok admitting he had been a little awestruck.

 

“Good to see you’re taking care of my granddaughter out here,” Tala had said by way of greeting.  “She can be a bit of a handful.”

 

And just like that Tala became one of his favorite mortals.

 

She had just stopped in to visit, wanting to check up on her favorite granddaughter.  She had been expecting to see Moana on the sea, but she had expected to find her with their people instead of…well, him.  So Moana had told her of the rebuilding, the smaller preparations, and the lessons that had taken up the last year or so of her life.  Preparing their people to leave Motunui.  The shorter, longer trips (“Scouting missions!” he had chimed in) she would take with Maui as a break.  Tala had stayed longer than he had expected, the two women talking well into the night, but when she finally did leave it was with a hefty glare his way and a warning to take care of her girl.

 

“I’m a giant spirit manta ray,” Tala had said, her dry voice lacking any – or maybe possessing just enough – humor, effectively sending a chill down his spine, “and the ocean is a friend of hers.  We can make life very unpleasant for you.”

 

And then she was smiling, as radiant as Moana’s (and maybe, for that exact reason, so much more terrifying), as she called out, “Bye!”

 

Moana was laughing, but Maui had had no idea what to make of the elder Waialiki.  So he had looked at Moana, nodded to the ocean where Tala had disappeared, and said, “You’re gramma is cooky-dooks.”

 

“She was the village crazy lady,” Moana had said.  “It was her job!”

 

And so the night begins to pass, Moana watching the stars but lost in her memories as she tells him story after story of her grandmother.  She tells him the ones he knows, about Tala watching as the ocean chose Moana and finding the Heart Tui had refused to let Moana keep.  How Tala had shown her the cave of ships.  How, during another late-night visit shortly after her return to Motunui, Tala had finally explained her manta ray tattoo.

 

“She always knew our people would return to the sea,” Moana says, voice choked with emotion, “and she knew I would be the one to lead them there.  She had wanted to go beyond the reef as much as my father and I did.  So she had wanted to come back as a manta ray, her favorite sea creature, so she could travel the seas with us.”

 

It’s been a while since he’s seen her cry over her grandmother, but Moana’s rubbing her arm against her eyes by the time she’s finished.  He sighs and tells her to get over to him, and it doesn’t take her long to cross the short distance to his waiting arms.  She burrows against his chest, and he hugs her as tight as he can with his free arm.  And it’s dangerous ground, and he doesn’t really know if he wants to know the answer, but he has to ask all the same.

 

“So…what would you come back as, Curly?” he asks, and Moana laughs as she presses her cheek to his chest.

 

“I think the gods already chose my tattoo,” she says, and he lifts both eyebrows at her as he cranes his neck, trying to spot any new ink in the dark.

 

“Oh, really?” he asks.  “When did you get it?  Where?  What is it?”

 

She laughs again as she pulls back from him, and he frowns as she reaches out and places a palm against his chest.  Over his heart.  Where Mini Moana sails.

 

“I want to come back with our canoe,” she says, voice firm.  “I want to be a voyager, so I can always sail with the Great Maui, Shapeshifter, Demigod of the Wind and Sea, Hero to All, Best Friend of Moana of Motunui.”

 

He knew he didn’t want to know the answer.

 

So he scoffs, shoving aside the fist of emotion that’s clenching around his heart, and he shoves at her half-heartedly.  He tells her she’s crazy, and that she shouldn’t talk like that because it will never happen, ok?  She’s always gonna be with him, and even if they both know better he’s not gonna let her think like that.  Like a time will come where it won’t be Maui and Moana.  Like she’ll…

 

He’s thankful that it doesn’t happen for a long time.

 

Towards the end, he refuses to even leave the island.  He can see she’s getting older, and something in him just _knows_.  She tells him he’s crazy, that she feels better than ever.  Really, she follows Tala to the letter and isn’t your typical village elder.  She’s been around for almost a century, but she’s still on those waters sailing.  True, she hasn’t taken a longer voyage with him in some time, but she’s never felt more at home than she has on the sea, and they still take shorter trips around her island.  Her youngest son, the child who stayed behind to resume the title of Chief after his older siblings had left to explore, worries constantly over her.  He fears that something will happen when they’re out on the water, that Moana will be lost to the sea and no one will be any wiser, but Maui promises he would never let that happen.

 

Because in the end, they’re pulling their canoe onto the shore when it does.

 

One minute Moana is laughing with him, chiding him for letting an old woman sail better than him, and the next her body has seized up, and he’s screaming as she collapses against the canoe.  He carries her back to the village, but there’s nothing anyone can do.  She’s well past her time, and this is always how it happens with mortals.  When her body is laying there, so very empty and wrong and not his Moana at all, her son says they should be thankful they had her as long as they did.  But it’s not what he wants to hear, and he gives a great cry as he shifts suddenly into a hawk and flies out of the hut.

 

He’s not exactly proud to admit that, when he flew over the beach and saw their canoe docked against the sand, he shifts again, crashing down as a three-ton whale and smashing it to splinters.  If Moana cannot be alive to do so, he’s petty enough to think, no one deserves to sail that canoe.

 

It’s a few days before he starts to regret that decision.  He’s built another canoe, but it’s not the same.  And he’s so far away from her island, drifting in open waters with no clear course in mind, and he thinks he could stay like that.  It just doesn’t feel the same, feel right, without her.  He’s lying on his back, staring listlessly up at the stars, when he feels it.  A rushing, a great wind, that comes across the sea like a crashing wave.  And his skin is itching, the way it does when he gets a new tattoo or when Mini Maui decides to aggravate him, and when he sits up to look down at his chest he finds it isn’t Mini Maui at all.

 

It’s Mini Moana.

 

She’s jumping off her little canoe, hopping over the little mountains to Mini Maui, and the stupid little jerk is jumping around cheering as she leaps into his arms.  They even high-five when they stop hugging, and then she looks up at him and he’s just…

 

“Mo…?” he chokes out, because really he has no idea how to react to this, but the little tattoo hugs him, right above his heart, and it’s the best he’s felt in days – until Mini Moana looks behind her shoulder, and he realizes the ocean is glowing again, like it had all those years ago when he got to meet Gramma Tala, and he looks up to find another canoe shimmering beside his own.

 

And there’s Moana, looking as she did so many years ago when her people first left Motunui.  Older than when they first met but younger than the elder he last saw her as.  She’s smiling at him, a proud Wayfinder, and she holds out her oar to him.  But it’s not enough, and he grabs the end (thinking his hand should just pass right through it, but of course these things don’t actually work that way) and tugs her onto his canoe.  He shouldn’t be able to hug her, but he does, and it’s the first time in a long time he’s laughed so openly and freely.  She leans back, winking at him as she places a hand over his heart.

 

“Guess I chose the right tattoo,” she says, and he’s still laughing as he places a hand against her cheek.

 

“Aue, Curly,” he sighs.  He looks back up to the stars before looking back to her, his grin nearly splitting his face.  “Come on.  Let’s go chase that line.”


End file.
